


Processing Systems

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Series: Flappy Family [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Autistic Character, Autistic Fitz, F/M, Kid Fic, a Very Educational fic, but dont let that scare you away!, there's some fs with a kid fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: Four-year-old Caroline Fitz-Simmons gets a diagnosis, and Fitz gets defensive about it.Because she's just a normal kid, right? These are things normal kids do. She just takes after her dad, that's all.(Autistic Fitz + autistic kid)





	

**Author's Note:**

> from unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot/achillesmonkey's prompt: Fitz realizes he's autistic after his child is diagnosed autistic 
> 
> this fic was brought to you by the letter A and the color holyeducationalbatman

“Dr. and Dr. Fitz-Simmons, thank you for joining us,” the diagnostician, Dr. Booth, says, a professional smile on her face. Fitz and Jemma take a seat across from her at her desk, while Caroline, as calm as the four-year-old can manage, bounds into the diagnostician's window seat and presses her face against the glass, watching the cars go by outside, her hands twisting together in her lap.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Jemma says. “Our schedules can be a bit … hectic, as you know, but you’ve been very accommodating with your time.”

“Of course.” Dr. Booth readjusts her glasses, peering at a pile of papers on her desk. “Now, you said you were advised to come here by your daughter’s school, correct? This wasn’t an unprompted decision.”

“She’s our first,” Fitz explains, glancing over to Caroline, who hasn’t moved, is just staring wide-eyed out the window. “And neither of us have a lot of experience with kids. We didn’t think there was anything … different, about her.” He scratches at his face, then looks down at his lap, adding somewhat defensively, “We didn’t think there was anything to be concerned about.”

“No one said anything about concern,” says Dr. Booth. “You don’t have to see this in a negative light. But if there is something to know, it’s good to know when your child is still young. There are steps you can take to make sure your child is accommodated for, both at home and at school.”

“So there is something to know,” Jemma says, half a question.

“Before we get into the results, I just want the both of you to know the kind of strides that the field of psychology has taken in the last decade or so. We’re understanding different conditions more and more each year, diagnosis is becoming more accurate, treatment plans and accommodations are more highly developed. There’s more to help families now than there ever has been.”

“What are the results?” Fitz asks gruffly.

“Well,” Dr. Booth looks at her paper, a light smile on her face. “According to the tests we had Caroline do, as well as observation, and interviews with the both of you, I’ve determined that Caroline does qualify for a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder.”

Jemma lets out a breath, looks towards Caroline, who doesn’t seem to be paying attention, and then towards Fitz, who’s eyebrows are drawn together.

“There’s nothing wrong with my kid,” he bites out.

“I never said there was,” Dr. Booth assures him.

“You just said she has a disorder,” Fitz argues, face pinched in upset.

“Well, yes, that’s the official title. But not everyone sees it that way. Autism is classified as a disorder, but according to some schools of thought, it’s just one of the many kinds of neurodivergencies.”

“I guess—” Jemma starts, grabbing Fitz’s hand to rub her thumb along the side of his thumb, “we just don’t know much about it, is all. I mean, you hear things, but we aren’t really educated in the area. It’s in neither of our areas of expertise.”

“I can answer any questions you have, but let me explain a little of the basics. Autism, or ASD, is classified as a developmental disability. It means that those with it—autistic people—hit developmental checkpoints at a different rate and sometimes in a different order than the general population. It impacts aspects of communication such as spoken language and body language, social skills, and will impact how autistic people process their environment and the world around them.”

“So it’s like …” Jemma risks a glance at Fitz, who’s not looking at either of them. “It’s like having a different processing system in her brain.”

“Exactly,” Dr. Booth says. “Some autistic people compare it to being an Android phone in a world of iPhones. There’s nothing inherently lesser about either system, they’re just different. They have different coding, run different apps, have different strengths and weaknesses. There are inherent challenges in living in a world that wasn’t built for you, which is why it’s a disability, but every autistic person will have different ways of coping with and adapting to that. Some people can adapt in such a way that you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and some people don’t.”

“So … you’re saying when she grows up, she might be—” Jemma winces, thinking. “’Normal’, for lack of a better word.”

“No,” Dr. Booth says. “She’ll always be autistic, it’s not something you grow out of. Some people are just better at blending in. For example, most people wouldn’t guess I was autistic just from talking to me, but I am. And to be honest with you, I think it makes me even better at this job than most people are.”

“Because you can relate?” Jemma asks.

“That’s one reason. Autistic people are also highly attuned to the details of things, which is necessary when you’re a diagnostician. We’re very good at picking out patterns. There are certain advantages to having an autistic brain. Different strengths and weaknesses, like I said.”

Jemma squeezes Fitz’s hand, watching the side of his face. She can see he’s still obviously upset about something. “Doesn’t sound so scary,” Jemma says, trying to comfort them both.

“You know—” Fitz cuts himself off, glancing at the ceiling, then to Dr. Booth, then back up. “You know, where- where are you even getting this? She just- She seems like a normal kid. You- You say she’s different, but where are you getting that? How come you say my kid is so different? That she- she’s got different processing, or something.”

Dr. Booth watches him steadily, and finally he looks at her, then looks away. “You know, no one is saying this is a bad thing, Dr. Fitz-Simmons. There’s no need to be defensive about it. Having terms like this to describe your child’s experiences can be a very helpful thing, in the long run.”

“I think we would just be more comfortable if we understood exactly where the diagnosis came from,” Jemma says, squeezing Fitz’s hand again.

“Of course,” Dr. Booth says, “I can explain how I came to this conclusion. Well, I mentioned that autistic people process the world differently. These differences in perception can affect our senses—manifesting in what we call sensory defensiveness and sensory seeking behaviors, of which Caroline shows both.”

“Can you explain what that means?” Jemma asks, when Fitz doesn’t say anything.

“We’ll start with sensory defensiveness. It means avoidance of unpleasant sensory experiences, showing a level of sensitivity outside of the normal range. Caroline, for example, didn’t like when I turned the main light on in the testing room because it hurt her eyes, so we turned on a dimmer lamp instead. You both said that she startles easily and will cover her ears at loud noises, refuses to eat foods if she doesn’t like the texture, and is only comfortable in mild weather.”

“All that she gets from her dad, really,” Jemma says, smiling at him. “He’s always been sensitive to that kind of stuff.”

“Hey.”

“What? You have. You hate the cold, the heat, loud noises, certain foods—”

“Everyone has preferences,” Fitz defends. “Don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Let’s move on to the sensory seeking behaviors. She displays what we call ‘stimming’—it’s short for self-stimulation. Autistic people do it to help themselves process their environment, both external and internal. Stimming behaviors that Caroline displayed included hand flapping, hand twirling, bouncing, chewing on her lips and fingers—”

“Well, she gets that from me, too,” Fitz cuts her off. “I’ve always felt better when I’m in motion. She’s just twitchy, like me.”

“Okay,” Dr. Booth says, leveling him with a careful smile. “Her language skills are also a point of interest. She shows the capacity for a very advanced vocabulary, but rarely spoke when prompted. When she did, it was just to tell me about her favorite fish.”

“Oh yes,” Jemma says, beaming. “She does love fish. All aquatic life, actually. She knows so much about it. It’s all she talks about, really.”

“And she showed an understanding of words far beyond her age level when she did, but for the most part she was silent. She obviously understood all my instructions, but didn’t respond to them.”

“I mean, she’s already above where I was,” Fitz says. “I didn’t even speak ‘till I was six. But when I did, it was all about monkeys. She loves animals, just like me. She’s just focused.”

“We would call something like that a ‘special interest’,” Dr. Booth informs them. “It’s common for autistic people to want to focus on their interests when they’re by themselves, as well as a way of interacting with others.”

“Was that all?” Jemma asks.

“Well, she also displayed what we refer to as ‘asymmetrical motor skills’. Her fine motor skills, small movements, like her handwriting, were really quite good. At or above the normal range. But gross motor skills, things like walking, controlling broad movement of her limbs when we played games, were much poorer.”

“Clumsiness runs in the family,” Fitz says. “I’m kind of a klutz. Good with my hands, though.”

“You know,” Dr. Booth starts cautiously, lacing her fingers on the table, turning to Fitz. “You seem to relate to an awful lot of the traits your daughter displays, Dr. Fitz-Simmons.”

“W-Well—” Fitz scratches the back of his head, glancing at Jemma. “I mean, she’s my kid. There’s going to be similarities.”

“Have you ever considered getting evaluated?”

Fitz just stares, Jemma glancing between them.

“What would that entail?” she asks.

“A similar process to what your daughter went through. A few tests, an interview, some paperwork. It takes a few hours, when all is said and done, over a day or two.”

“Sh-Should I?” Fitz asks, aimed at Jemma, mouth bobbing into an open gape.

Jemma watches him carefully, then turns back to Dr. Booth. “What are the benefits?”

“Well, for adults especially, having an official word for your experiences can be very relieving. It helps you to make sense of some things that may have been in the dark in your life before. It can also help you feel connected to other people like yourself—the autistic community is growing and thriving nowadays, and you can always reach out to other people who have similar experiences. And it opens avenues for accommodations in the workplace as well, should you need them.”

She turns back to Fitz, giving a little shrug. “Is that something you’re interested in?”

He looks away. “Maybe.”

“Well, I only evaluate children, but I can refer you to some very good diagnosticians who evaluate adults as well. You don’t have to take me up on it if you don’t want to, but from my personal experience, I think it’s something worth looking in to.”

Fitz picks at the fabric of his pants. “Yeah, alright. I-I’ll think about it.”

“Our time is about up here, but before you go let me give you this—” She hands over a stapled stack of papers. “It’s Caroline’s official diagnosis results. You’ll find a full explanation of the results of each test, as well as her scores on the IQ portion of the test. That’s another thing to note—her test scores vary highly over the different tests. Most people have more concentrated scores, whereas Caroline scored within a range of 30th percentile to the 99th. Also included in there is the next steps you can follow: places to do more research, as well as the possible benefits of things like occupational therapy.”

“If we have any questions—” Jemma starts.

“Feel free to email me, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Fitz takes the papers as he stands, bending and curling them within his grasp.

Jemma shakes Dr. Booth’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Booth, this has been very helpful.”

“I’m happy to do it. And can I just say, even though she was a little scared when we started out, it’s obvious that Caroline is a very happy kid. I think the two of you have done an excellent job of raising her so far, even without these resources.”

“Thank you,” Jemma says, “that means a lot.” She turns to Caroline, who’s still pressed against the window, looking like she hasn’t been paying attention at all. “Caroline, darling, we’re going now.”

Caroline jumps down from the seat, bounding up to Jemma in bouncing steps. She reaches up, and Jemma picks her up with a grunt and settles her on her hip.

“Can fish be autistic?” Caroline asks, eyes wide, looking around the room.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were listening.” She glances at Dr. Booth, smiling. “No, I don’t think they can be. I think it’s special to humans.”

“Humans are fish,” Caroline says. “Everything’s fish.”

“Well, I don’t think that fish that live in the ocean can be autistic. Just people-fish.”

“What about dolphins? They’re mammals.”

“No,” Jemma laughs. “But they might have their own version.”

Caroline gives a noncommittal hum, then starts playing with Jemma’s hair.

Dr. Booth smiles at them. “So smart, that one. I think she takes after her parents.”

“Thank you again,” Jemma says, and then the three of them make their way out of the room.

As they’re walking out to the car, Jemma watches Fitz, who hasn’t said anything.

“You’ll think about it?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I’ll think about it.” 

-

A month later, Jemma is sitting in their living room looking over some files, as Caroline lays on the floor looking at a marine biology textbook. She doesn’t know how to read most of the words (though she recognizes the shape of most of the species names), but she likes looking at the pictures and diagrams.              

The front door opens and closes, and Jemma looks up nervously.

“Fitz?” she calls.

“Just me,” is the response.

Her body relaxes, and she goes back to looking at the file as he takes off his shoes and hangs up his coat, though she’s not really reading it. After a minute he joins them in the living room, plopping heavily onto the couch. There’s a set of papers clutched in one of his hands.

He’s quiet, and Jemma tries to wait for him to speak, but after only a few seconds she can’t help herself.

“Well?” she asks. “What’d they say?”

He uncurls the papers, and hands them over. Jemma takes them, reading quickly.

Diagnosis: Autism Spectrum Disorder

She reads it again, then scans lower down on the page. There’s a lot about test results, results of the interview, a lot of numbers that Jemma hasn’t started to unpack yet. But, there it is. Plain as day.

“So,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling about it?”

He scoots down on the couch, tilting his head to rest against the back. He blows out a breath, fingers twisting together on his stomach. “Relieved, I think.”

“Well … that’s good, isn’t it? This is a good thing.”

“It- It explains a lot of things. Things I’ve been confused about. Things that I didn’t necessarily have words for, before. I just … I wish I’d known sooner.”

“Do you think it would’ve helped?”

“Yeah,” he admits softly. “I- SHIELD knew. I called Coulson and asked, it’s been on my file since the Academy.”

Jemma’s brows furrow. “They knew and never told you?”

He shakes his head, eyes on the ceiling. “Wasn’t in the policy to tell, I guess. And Coulson just assumed I knew already.”

“Well, in any case,” Jemma says, “you know now, and that’s what’s important. And, can I just say, I’m really proud of you for doing this. I know it was scary, but you went through with it anyway, and I think that was really brave. And I think this is going to be a good thing, getting to learn more about yourself.”

“Yeah.” Fitz finally turns to look at her. “Yeah, I think this is going to be a good thing, too.”

“And,” Jemma adds, “it’s just another way that you can relate to our daughter.”

“That’s true,” Fitz says, smiling, and then scoots off the couch to settle on the floor in front of Caroline. “Did you hear, monkey? Daddy’s autistic, too. We have the same kind of brain.”

“Shovelhead sharks clone themselves,” Caroline replies, still looking at her book. “So they’d have the same kind of brain, too.”

“That’s true.” Fitz nods. “They would. I didn’t clone myself, though. You can tell because you’re much cuter than me.”

“She _does_ have the curls,” Jemma points out.

“That she does.” He grins. “One of the many wonderful things she gets from me.”

“She gets _some things_ from me,” Jemma quips, as he moves to sit back on the couch next to her, grabbing up her hand. “Like her love of biology.”

“Ah- Love of animals,” Fitz shoots back, a teasing grin on his face. “Still from me.”

“I like animals.”

“You like dissecting them, Jem, that’s different.”

“Fine. What about her love of tidiness? That definitely comes from me.”

“Well … I do keep my lab very tidy. But she also keeps her room clean, which I do not, so sure, I’ll give you that one.”

Jemma beams. “Hah. I knew there was something.”

Fitz smiles, but eventually it drops. “Do you … Do you think this is gonna change anything?”

Jemma tilts her head, peering at him. “Like what?”

“Dunno,” Fitz mumbles.

“I don’t think it’ll change anything unless you want them to change.”

“If I do … d’you think that’s bad?”

“No,” Jemma assures him. “How you think of yourself is going through a change, I don’t think it’s bad if you want other things to change along with it. If anything, it might change how open you are with certain things about yourself. And how you think those things deserve to be treated.”

“Caroline … She’ll have names for all these things. She’ll understand it. Understand herself, better than I did.”

“Yes, she will.”

“And- And I’m glad we know, now. So we can give her the best life she can have.”

Jemma raises their conjoined hands to press a kiss to the back of his. “You’re already a great dad, Fitz. You’re already giving her an amazing life. But yes, this will make things easier, now that we know.”

Fitz ducks his head, smiling, and then turns to Caroline. “Hey, monkey, do you want to watch Finding Nemo? You can tell us all the species names when they come on screen.”

Caroline immediately jumps up, her hands flapping at her sides. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Fitz gets up to put in the DVD, and on his way back scoops Caroline off the floor and plops her onto his lap as he settles back onto the couch. She presses back against him, picking up his hand so she can play with his fingers as she watches. Jemma leans against his side, resting one hand on his leg.

“ _Amphiprion ocellaris,_ ” Caroline says as the movie starts.

Fitz presses a kiss against her hair. “Good job, monkey. Good job.”


End file.
